


Aconite

by lucida



Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin, Baby-Sitters Little Sister - Ann M. Martin, California Diaries - Ann M. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: babysitters100, Flash City, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 21:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2443898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucida/pseuds/lucida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannah’s a private investigator, Zeke’s a pathologist, Karen’s on a reality show, and Amalia’s getting married and possibly trying to poison everyone with buttercream azaleas. That’s all, really. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aconite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meroure](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meroure/gifts).



> I’m doing an AU meme on my Dreamwidth account and meroure gave me "Zeke and Hannie: two miserable people at a wedding AU." And, well. I’m not quite sure Hannie’s miserable enough, but it still counts? Fun fact: this is sort of an AU within an AU, just in the sense that it’s kind of based on an AU that meroure and I have discussed. I’ve hit a new high/low. 
> 
> Thanks x100 to isabelquinn for the beta! ♥

“It’s my wedding day, Zeke!” Amalia grabs his arm as he passes. “You realize there is no way you’re getting out of giving me a hug, right?”

It’s not that Zeke was trying to escape the chapel without acknowledging the wedding party or anything. It’s just that Zeke hates small talk, and seating assignments, and especially being forced to make awkward conversations with people he’s never met and basically there’s no way he’ll be caught dead at the after party horror show. Reception. Whatever, same difference.

So, yeah. He’d totally tried to slip by unnoticed. The only reason he came to the reception is because Maggie threatened bodily harm--and sure Maggie is tiny and all, but her claws hurt like hell.

“Of course not.” 

Zeke grins and pulls Amalia in for a hug. The chapel is freezing, but Amalia is warm and smells like honey.

“Oh sure.” Amalia raises an eyebrow, giving Zeke a knowing look. “I know you better than that, but I’m willing to forgive and forget if you come to the reception.”

Anyone else--except maybe Sunny, because Zeke would not miss a reception of Winslow levels of crack--and Zeke would make a beeline for the door. Amalia’s almost like a second sister to him, though, and one of the few people in the world he genuinely cares about. He feels guilty for trying to escape in the first place, which--- _damn it_ , conscience.

“I hate you,” he groans.

Amalia beams and pinches his cheek, just because she’s evil.

“Brilliant! You’re going to love who we’ve seated you next to.”

\---

Amalia’s husband is apparently some kind of super nerd because the wedding party enters the reception to the Indiana Jones theme and there’s an enormous stack of Oreos with a Batman topper on the dessert table. Not that Zeke is complaining.

Amalia is represented too though. There’s a platter of round powdered sugar things that look like enlarged donut holes, and the wedding cake is wearing a sash of red, yellow, orange, and purple buttercream azaleas.

Luckily Zeke’s place card is close to the dessert table, so it’s easy to snap a photo of the wedding cake and text it to Jeff, along with---

**Azaleas in large quantities can cause vomiting, coma, and death.**

_Sorry to disappoint you, dude, but looks like all those azaleas will be causing is cavities._

**I would say it’s good they’re fake, but if they were real I could have a quick escape from this misery.**

_One word: alcohol._

**Right. When in doubt, just drink yourself to death.**

_Hey, that’s what the tv says we’re supposed to do in our 20s._

**That’s the most useless advice ever.**

_How about this: life’s easy when you smile. :)_

**Oh fuck you.**

\---

Amalia’s right: Zeke _does_ at least love who he’s seated next to. Her name is Hannah Papadakis and she has olive skin and long, dark hair with caramel streaks. She’s wearing a black blazer over a red dress, black tights and Saint Laurent black leather platform pumps. Zeke isn’t necessarily into fashion, but he’s been dragged into high end stores by his mother so many times that it’s nearly impossible _not_ to recognize some brands.

But none of this is why he likes her.

Hannah’s barely said a word since he slid into the seat next to her. She was friendly, sure--she introduced herself, asked how he was, feigned interest in the baby that the couple seated across from them is expecting. Or at least Zeke is assuming it was feigned interest. Maybe he’s projecting, but actually caring about when a stranger’s baby is due or if it’s a boy or girl seems a little far-fetched to him. Or getting interested in pregnancy stories in general. Liking ultrasound photos on Facebook and Instagram should be a tax write-off.

(The couple is on the dance floor now, of course. Thankfully.)

Anyway, Hannah and Zeke have lapsed into comfortable silence--Hannah’s been attached to her cellphone, and Zeke to his. It’s a pretty nice system and all, but Zeke is finally starting to get bored, and maybe Jeff’s advice is worth a shot. Make friends with someone, smile, whatever. Another hour and he can leave, guilt-free.

“In extreme cases,” Zeke speaks up. “Azaleas can cause vomiting, coma, and even death.”

Hannah lowers her phone, stares at Zeke in surprise, then--

“Wow. Not a fan of small talk, are you?”

“Nope.” Zeke replies honestly. “Cashier asks how you are, you say fine even if your dog’s just died. You’re not going to unload your life story on a stranger, so asking seems pointless.”

He pauses.

“Too blunt?”

He’s always being accused of being too blunt, for some reason. Insensitive. He likes to joke that it’s because he spends ninety percent of his time around cadavers.

“Nah.” Hannah laughs. “So, these flowers...”

\---

It turns out that Hannah knows more about flowers than Zeke does. She points out that unlike what Amalia’s wedding cake suggests, there’s actually no such thing as a yellow azalea--and orange azaleas are very rare. She also says that, unfortunately, it would take a great number of azaleas before they’d actually kill someone.

“... So probably not a good choice of poison,” she sums up. “There’s a chance your enemy would live to tell the tale, and etcetera.”

Zeke already knows this, of course, but he just nods and takes another sip of his water.

“Yeah, I would definitely go with monkshood. The aconite it produces is one of the deadliest known poisons, and leaves no trace in the blood. To any medical examiner, it will present as asphyxia.”

Hannah shakes her head and accepts another glass of white moscato from a passing waiter.

“Someone’s a fan of _Criminal Minds_ ,” she teases.

Zeke scoffs.

“Right. Like I’d be stupid enough to think I can hack into the number one defensive software by hanging out in someone’s room all day and ‘getting in their head.’ Have you seen that episode? How they successfully guess the guy’s password after finding a CD in the hard drive? What kind of fucking dumbass would pay big bucks for software like that, then use something so insecure for a password?”

“That’s a little far-fetched,” Hannah agrees. “I’ve come across some people with really stupid passwords--one guy used his ex-girlfriend’s name--but I went in _knowing_ this guy wasn’t the smartest kid on the block, so no big surprise there.”

“Well, at least his password wasn’t _password_ ,” Zeke amends.

Then, both of them speaking at the same time---

“Wait, you hack?”

“Anyway, are you always so passionate when you’re talking about crime shows?”

Hannah goes first, shrugging.

“I’m a private investigator. By the way, I’m coming to you if I ever get clients with asphyxiated loved ones.”

“Private investigator? Wicked. Wait. For real? How old are you? Like twenty-one?”

“Twenty-five.” Hannah punches his shoulder. “Old enough. What do you do?”

“I’m a pathologist,” he smirks. “So if I ever decide to poison someone, I promise you will find _nothing_ on me.”

\---

Hannah comes back to the table with a single red rose tucked behind her ear.

“Sunny was willing to knock out someone for that bouquet.” She shakes her head. “Reminds me of my friend Karen. Remind me to never introduce them.”

Zeke snorts. He’s about to say that Sunny isn’t even the domestic type--somehow he can’t see her ever getting married--but is caught off by Josh Rocker calling “all the hot bachelors” down to the dance floor for the garter toss.

He sends Jeff a photo of Sunny waving the bouquet above her head victoriously, like it had been won in battle, because Jeff _sucks_ for being on the other side of the country visiting his mother right now, and he should be reminded as often as possible that his friend is miserable.

Jeff might actually be more miserable, though. Zeke makes a mental note to ask how Richard’s spending his day.

“So,” Hannah interrupts. “Aren’t you going up there?”

“ _Oy! You in the blue!_ ”

Zeke watches as Josh leaves the stage to drag some poor guy to the center of the dance floor. Luckily, the lights are pretty dim and Zeke’s table is on the outside of the room, so he blends in.

“Nah,” he waves a hand dismissively. “I’ll let them do that.”

Hannah’s phone lights up and she groans. Zeke thinks of how she spent the first thirty minutes of the reception glued to her texting app and considers asking about it, but decides it’s none of his business.

Hannah tells him anyway.

“My friend is driving me insane. She knows I’m at this wedding, but she keeps texting and then sends _are you ignoring me?_ messages and frowny faces when I don’t respond immediately. To top it off, her drama isn’t even anything interesting. It’s the same thing she whines about every other day.”

Ducky catches the garter and waves it above his head like a lasso. Everyone cheers and catcalls as Josh calls Sunny down so the two winners can get a photo together. Ducky picks Sunny up bridal style, and Sunny kisses his cheek.

“You know the Flash City lyric? _Same old story but a different day?_ That’s Karen and Ricky. And Pamela. Apparently Ricky met some girl when he was visiting Karen’s dad’s lodge, and now Karen and Pamela are both out for blood.”

Ducky goes to sit next to his boyfriend, Alex. Sunny and Josh take the stage and play air guitar to Madonna’s “Like a Virgin.” Not exactly a good song for epic guitar solos, but Josh and Sunny will never be accused of being normal.

Zeke turns his attention back to Hannah.

“Karen is the one who keeps texting?” he guesses.

“You really don’t know who I am, do you?”

Zeke is about to apologize for not paying attention, when he notices that Hannah doesn’t look angry. She looks amused. Thrilled, even. And---

“What, are you famous or something? Veronica Mars 2.0, maybe?”

\---

She is, of course---famous, not Veronica Mars. That Zeke knows of.

Zeke isn’t surprised. His father’s Hayden Blume, so he’s grown up meeting celebrities. Then there’s the fact that he’s at Amalia’s wedding. Amalia Vargas, manager of Vanish---arguably the most famous band in the world. Of course Hannah blends in well here.

She’s not a musician though.

“MTV?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. “Okay I know I promised not to judge you, but I just want you to know that I am formally revoking that pledge. I’m judging you.”

Hannah ducks her head and blushes.

“Oh come on. I quit _The Lodge_ four years ago so I could go to NYU.”

“I take it Karen, Ricky, and Pamela were your co-stars, then?”

Hannah nods.

“Yup. The show’s still going on, too. No idea how it’s lasted this long, honestly, but at least this is supposedly the last season. Looks like they’re going to go out with a bang. The producers will eat up Karen and Pamela uniting to go after Ricky’s girlfriend.”

“How many seasons? Eight? And all of them are about Karen and Pamela fighting over Ricky?”

“Basically.” Hannah shrugs. “There are other things going on too. Karen starts a fashion line in season three. Jenny decides to try to make it as a model in season four, so that’s a big deal for awhile. Season five has this huge cliffhanger because Ricky is thinking about moving away. I left in season four, and Karen was melodramatic about her ‘best friend leaving’ even though we were still in the city...”

She downs the rest of her wine.

“Oh my god, this is so embarrassing. I can’t believe-- _stop laughing_!”

“I thought you were _sane_ ,” Zeke gasps, when he can breathe again. “And you were on a fucking MTV reality show that basically sounds like The Hills 2.0. No offense.”

“Hey, the truth hurts.”

“It’s fucking hilarious though. You were on a reality show and now you’re a private investigator. Don’t you find that ironic? How stealthy can you be if everyone recognizes you?”

“I always wanted to be a private investigator,” Hannah defends herself. “My brother Linny and I used to spy on the neighbors all the time, and I did some shady stuff to help Karen get Ricky--it wasn’t on the show because it was, well, questionable. But if you ever watch the show and wonder how Karen has access to Ricky’s full schedule, you have my hacking skills to thank---or not thank.”

“So you’re more into the hacking side of things? Have other people to do the fieldwork for you?”

“Well, I haven’t exactly started yet? I just moved here for a job last week, actually. Amalia and I met at a party a couple years ago and then Vanish kind of adopted me because they said I needed refuge from Karen’s insanity---”

“Yeah, they have a way of adopting people.”

“---Even though they’re just as insane, but in a different way. But yeah. Amalia says I need more sane friends, so she insisted I come to her wedding? I start work next Monday.”

She chews on her lip, and adds--

“She kept going on about how much I was going to love you, so I’m sorry if she’s trying to play matchmaker again or something, and you’ve gotten roped into this---what’s so funny?”

Zeke is glad he’s not into girls, because if he was _was_ trying to win Hannah over, he doubts she’d find the sight of him accidentally snorting water up his nose very attractive.

“Nothing,” he finally says, grinning. “Just that you’re not my type.”

Hannah’s eyes light up and she laughs.

“Oh. Right.”

“Yeah. So. Everyone’s always going on about how I need more friends who aren’t dead bodies, so I think she just thought we could geek over hacking and autopsies together.”

“What, so dead people aren’t good friends?” Hannah teases.

“Oh, they’re excellent friends. They keep all your secrets, don’t interrupt you while you’re talking, don’t try to drag you out on Friday nights. They rarely text you non-stop at weddings. Or at all, really.”

“Ugh, that reminds me. I still haven’t texted Karen. She’s now moved onto bothering me about how I need to meet her for lunch Saturday so we can catch up. AKA: so she can rant about Ricky’s girlfriend.”

“Tell her you’re busy?” Zeke suggests. “You have to take your hamster to the vet. Zombies are invading your apartment. Oops, sorry, work started two days earlier than planned.”

“... Or you can come with me,” Hannah suggests, grinning wickedly. “Be my buffer. We can talk about autopsies or whatever and gross Karen out.”

Zeke’s never met Karen, and he’d prefer to keep it that way, but Hannah is the least annoying person Zeke has met in a long time.

“What are we, twelve?” He rolls his eyes, even though he’s already made up his mind.

“Please?”

“Depends. How much force will it take to throw her out of the restaurant window?”

“No idea. How many kilotons will it take to blow ourselves up when she asks me to help her spy on Ricky?”

“Why are you friends with her again?” Zeke is definitely judging, but at least Hannah gets major points for loyalty. “Whatever. I’ll come, but I’m bringing monkshood.”


End file.
